case. With her metabolism, it was a trick to take any drug with the right timing and in sufficient amounts to be effective.
In the kitchen she filled a liter bottle with warm water. She had to keep hydrated as well. In the family room, she spread out a bath towel and lay down. Then she called Jane.
“Are you okay?” was Jane’s first question.
“Do I not sound okay?”
“You sound—stressed. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay, okay?”
A suspicious tone crept into Jane’s voice. “Did you get sunburned up there?”
“A little.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a little more than a little. I shall recover.”
“Do you have enough codeine and cortisone on hand?”
Milada sighed. This was why Jane needed to get married, so she could have a child of her own to bestow all her mothering instincts upon. Jane took the cue and moved on. “How’d the day go?”
The day had started with her sending a kid into the ICU. Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln. She composed herself before she spoke. “The meeting with Mr. Wylde went better than expected. We are going to have to pull a few rabbits out of a few hats, but I am optimistic.”
“Anything you want me to relay to Garrick?”
“No. I shall write up a memo and e-mail you tomorrow. I’ll call the two of you Monday.”
“From home or the office?”
“Home, most likely.”
“So you got burned pretty bad then.”
“Jane—” Milada said with tender exasperation.
“Someone has to watch out for you girls.”
“I appreciate it, Jane. I promise to lie very still and think calm thoughts and take lots of drugs.”
“If you promise.”
“Good-bye, Jane.”
“Good-bye, Milly. And take care.”
Milada clicked off the phone and tossed it aside. She uncapped the water bottle and washed down two codeine tabs and a thousand milligrams of ibuprofen. Then she lay very still on the floor and thought calm thoughts. Spinning off Daranyi Medical Informatics as an independent company could prove quite lucrative. No debt financing, a pure intellectual property play. She would have smiled if it didn’t hurt so much.
Chapter 41
A sin confessed is half forgiven
Rachel watched the Lincoln turn the corner, cruise down the street and out of sight. She wondered how long she should wait. She’d gotten into the habit of bursting in on Milada and was reluctant to do so today, even when she had a good excuse.
“Aren’t you going to take her attaché back?” her husband asked.
“Maybe after dinner.”
After a light meal eaten in uncomfortable stillness, Rachel picked up the attaché case and walked down the street to Milada’s house. Milada didn’t come to the door when she rang the doorbell. Maybe she was napping. Milada didn’t strike her as someone who napped. She tried the doorknob.
The door was open. She called out, “Milada? It’s Rachel Forsythe.”
She tiptoed into the kitchen and glanced down through the banisters into the family room. Milada lay on the floor on a bath towel, her head resting on a small throw pillow. The louvers across the sliding glass doors cast lines of light across her waist and legs. Her robe was pulled down from her shoulders. Next to her on the carpet were a water bottle, several prescription pill bottles, a cell phone.
Milada’s eyes followed her as she came down the short flight of stairs. “Hello, Rachel,” Milada said. Her voice was stiff and muted. She did not lift her head.
“You left your attaché case at the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Milada mumbled.
Rachel set the attaché case next to the staircase and stood there, trying not to stare at the pill bottles, trying not to wonder what the drugs were, because it was none of her business. But then she looked closer and gasped. “Milada! What happened to you?”
“A sunburn. Don’t you know your lore, Rachel? We do not fare well when exposed to the light of day.” She tried to smile. “You needn’t worry. A temporary setback. What do you want? You always get that look on your face when you want something.”
Abashed, Rachel retreated a step. “There’s something I have to ask you.”
“Then ask me,” Milada said, the resignation clear in her voice.
“What happened in London?”
Milada turned her eyes toward Rachel, a pair of diamonds shining out of a pool of soot. “You know what happened there.”
Rachel did. She felt the touch of evil and forced herself not to imagine what she knew from that simple statement.
Milada spoke without prompting. “I understand now what Rakosi wanted. He wanted a family, companions to share the long night of eternity with. But he was in no way prepared to be